


SVS-17: Freedom Run

by Geli



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Series: The Sentinel Slash Virtual Season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:19:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geli/pseuds/Geli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When two triad gangs start a fight, Jim and Blair are caught in the action.<br/>This story is a sequel to SVS-16: Hell Hath No Fury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SVS-17: Freedom Run

**Author's Note:**

> Author's disclaimer: This story is an episode of The Sentinel Slash Virtual Season (SVS), produced by FiveSenses, Inc. SVS is based on characters and concepts developed by, and belonging to, Pet Fly Productions. This story is intended for private, personal enjoyment only. No money is being made, or will be allowed to be made, by the author of this story or by FiveSense, Inc. from the writing and distribution of this story. Any original characters introduced in an SVS episode belongs to the episode author and to FiveSenses, Inc. and should not be used without their permission.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Warmest thanks from FiveSenses, Inc. to Bast, Bettina, Christi, and Moonshadow for their much appreciated contributions in beta reading this story. Episodes of SVS may contain depictions of consensual m/m sex. These depictions may or may not be accompanied by specific mention of items necessary for safe and healthy intercourse. It is the intention of FiveSenses, Inc. and all SVS authors that, even when such items are not explicitly mentioned, their use is to be assumed as a matter of course. All of us at FiveSenses, Inc. are aware of the risks of unprotected sex in today's world and strongly advocate the practice of safe sex, including the use of condoms and other protective devices.

* * *

The sky was watery blue in the early morning light. The warehouse near the waterfront appeared deserted; nobody seemed to be around at that time of the day. The sign declaring the corporation's name hung by one nail. 

Quantum Inc. Beware of the dog! 

Blair stepped up next to Jim and looked through his binoculars, trying to detect any signs of movement within the warehouse. Jim observed the area with his senses up, his face sporting the usual blank, distracted expression that accompanied his intense concentration. 

"You got anything?" Blair murmured. 

Jim grimaced as if he'd smelled something particularly vile. 

"Not even rats." 

Blair gripped the binoculars tighter. 

"Damn! Renfield is supposed to be here," Blair insisted, his frustration at their absent suspect obvious. 

"I know." Jim looked down at his partner and nodded toward the building. 

Blair shrugged. "We could take a peek -- but I'm coming with you!" 

Jim grinned and sauntered across the street nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. Blair left the binoculars in the truck and followed him. He squatted down next to Jim and observed critically how the older man took longer than usual to pick the lock. 

"You're slowing down, Jimbo." 

"No, I'm not." 

"I'm telling you, man. You're getting old." 

Jim growled and rattled the doorknob. "We'll see how old I am when we get back home." 

"Promises, promises!" 

Finally, the lock gave in and they stepped into the warehouse. Blair pressed himself close to Jim and peered around him. Jim grinned. He always felt a foot taller when Blair instinctively sought the protection of his body. Blair's warmth distracted him immediately. 

"Looks like he's gone for good. Seems like he cleared out with all the drug lab equipment," Blair said. 

The wide room was empty except for scattered trash and a few wooden crates. Jim searched the dark corners with sharpened sight, but there was nothing to see. Dust danced in the pale light that streamed through the high windows. Blair started to wander across the empty space looking for clues. He snorted to himself. It wasn't as if Renfield were stupid enough to write down a forwarding address somewhere. A stack of boxes drew his attention. They appeared to be newer than the rest. 

"Jim?" 

The alarming quality to Blair's quiet word raised the hairs on the back of Jim's neck. Swiftly, he moved to his lover's side. 

"Is this what it looks like?" Blair asked quietly. 

Jim squinted at the black box with its blinking red numbers and lights. Seven, six, five... 

He grabbed one of Blair's lapels and yelled: 

"Run!" 

The few yards to their truck seemed to take an eternity to cross. They jumped behind it, ducked and held their breath, bracing for the explosion. Jim pressed his hands protectively over his ears. 

Moments passed. A bird sang cheerily but everything else remained quiet. Jim blinked. Blair dared to poke his head over the hood of the truck. He started to stand up as he spoke. 

"Maybe it was a dud..." 

The force from the blast knocked him off his feet before he could finish the sentence. The detonation caused their eardrums to feel as if they were being sucked out. The truck vibrated from impact as Jim curled himself in a writhing ball of agony. The noise was deafening. Debris hit the side of the truck in a violent staccato and a harsh chemical stench filled the air. Blair threw himself over Jim and clutched at the taller man. 

The whine of countless alarm sirens cut short the eerie silence that followed the blast. The occasional clatter of small pieces of debris falling from the sky provided counterpoint. A cloud of dust hovered over the area. Jim coughed and sneezed until he had tears in his eyes. 

Blair pulled himself to a sitting position against the truck and stretched his legs out. His ears were ringing. Bumping his head repeatedly against the passenger door, he let out a frustrated whine. 

"Why me? Can you tell me that?" He shook his head. "I'm getting too old for this. One day this job is going to give me a heart attack." 

Jim just looked up with a tell-me-about-it expression in his pain-filled eyes. His head throbbed in time with his overloaded senses. It would take hours to get it all back down to normal levels. 

"You okay?" Blair scrutinized his sentinel carefully. 

Jim sneezed violently. "Just overload." 

"I hate Mondays," Blair concluded. 

"This is Saturday." 

"Whatever you say!" Blair waved his hand around in an all-encompassing gesture. "This feels like Monday." 

* * *

"Your ears still hurting?" Jim asked, tenderly leaning over his lover. 

They were snuggling lazily in bed, enjoying their day off. The bed was a mess -- leftovers from a late night snack balanced on the nightstand and a squeezed-out tube of lube on top of it. Jim kissed the ear he asked about and licked at its lobe like a kitten. Blair squirmed at the tickling sensation. 

"Kind of. If I ever get my hands on Renfield, he's going to be very sorry. What kind of goodbye gift is that anyway? First he cooks up this mean designer drug and then leaves bombs all over the city like old girlfriends." 

"Renfield's already left town. According to my source, it's destination unknown." 

"Yeah, he's probably so far into the woods now, he's with the seven dwarfs." 

Blair absently ran his fingers through his own chest hair. It drove Jim nuts, the sound of the crisp hair sliding against the soft skin. He wanted to rub his dick through it but didn't quite know how to bring it up. He couldn't really explain to Blair how much his body hair turned him on. It was a sensory feast, all that fine hair tugging at his skin. The arrow of it that ran down Blair's belly to join the pubic hair was a tantalizing sight, the skin down there softer, more vulnerable. And the sweet masculine smell intensified by the warmth of the bed was intoxicating. 

Determined, he wiggled himself on top of Blair, who was surprised, but pleased, by the heavy weight. Jim barely tried to hold himself up. He wanted to touch as much of Blair as possible with his own body. 

"What are you up to?" Blair giggled. 

Jim ground his erection into Blair. 

"You have to ask?" Jim asked hoarsely. 

Blair's sudden flush and moan encouraged Jim to rub himself against his lover. Blair gasped from the erotic sensation and from the familiar crush of Jim's greater weight. Jim slid up and down for a while, getting so turned on that he thought he would come from the friction alone. His skin tingled all over as Blair made small sexy noises. It became more and more difficult to stay enough in control to hold himself up. Jim thought about simply crushing Blair under him and coming in a blaze of glory. 

The phone rang loudly. 

Jim sighed and hid his face in Blair's curls. With an angry growl he grasped blindly for the phone. Blair froze under him, waiting for his lover's next move. There was an unbearable heat between them that needed relief. Listening for a few seconds, Jim tried to regain his composure before he replied. All his blood had pooled somewhere else. 

"Okay, Simon. See you in a few," Jim rasped out. 

Blair groaned. This job could kill a love life! 

* * *

Blair pushed his curls behind his ears and stared out the window of the passenger seat of Jim's truck. Interrupted sex always made him cranky and moody. 

"This Renfield case has made me think. That explosion was, like, so stupid! Danger has been following us around like some bad karma. This isn't normal!" 

Jim raised an eyebrow. Where was this coming from? 

"That's an exaggeration, Chief. Besides, you're always telling me normal is relative." 

"Exaggeration?" Blair huffed. "We are at ground zero of every catastrophe that happens in the Pacific Northwest, man. We must be reaping some majorly bad karma here. The gods do not love us." 

Jim gave him an affectionate grin. "How can anybody not love you?" 

"C'mon, Romeo, you're my boyfriend, you're biased! I'm thinking one day our luck is going to run out. And bam!" He smacked his hands together. "Next thing we know, we'll be sitting on cloud nine playing harps." 

"You sure you'll go to heaven?" Jim teased, "Juliet?" 

"Fuck Juliet. Just because I have long hair doesn't mean I'm the girl in this relationship!" Blair sounded offended. 

Jim laughed out loud. Blair always looked so cute when he got flustered like this. 

"We are going to be more careful," Blair said as if he'd decided for both of them. 

"Sure, Chief! I'm always careful." Jim agreed, humoring his lover. 

"Right." 

Jim hit the brakes and growled when he saw the number of police cars at the crime scene. Their free day was gone for sure. 

"Hey, simmer down!" Blair laughed. 

"You're not the one whose day off was canceled," Jim complained as he opened the car door. 

Blair slipped out the truck, leaving the interrupted lovemaking unmentioned. 

"As if that would make a difference? Where you go, I go." 

"More like, where you come, I come," Jim murmured with a gleam in his eyes. 

There was a tone in Jim's voice Blair had learned to recognize since they had become lovers. Jim could say something absolutely harmless, yet Blair always knew exactly what was going on in Jim's mind. The implied suggestions always triggered Blair's libido. He threw a heated glance in Jim's direction and made sure to walk in front of Jim so that Jim would get a good look at his ass. 

The crime scene was, once again, in the warehouse district close to the waterfront. They were close enough to the docks that the smell of salt water was strong. Seagulls sailed lazily overhead. 

Simon stood like a tower amidst a group of busy forensic people crouching close to the ground. Uniformed cops milled around, digging through litter and empty crates. Yellow tape outlined the whole area. When Blair spotted the row of body bags behind the SWAT van, he automatically drew nearer to Jim. The older man was alert and scanning the surroundings with a disgusted expression. His senses had already picked up the source of all this drama. 

"Jim?" Simon greeted his detective. The Captain's face was etched deep with fatigue. "Sorry to wake you." He regarded Blair with an apologetic expression. "But this is one enormous mess. I want you to take this case. Forget Renfield, he's probably gone anyway." 

"Where are they?" Jim asked bluntly. 

Simon waved in the direction of a warehouse and led the way. Blair followed, curious about why they were here. Simon's face looked drained, which was always a bad sign. 

"The private security guard found two men on his rounds. Both had been shot in the head. He called the cops. When they got here, they followed their noses and found the rest." 

Boxes and crates filled the old brick warehouse. In a far corner stood a huge red cargo container that police had secured. Several of the forensic people in white overalls and masks were busily dusting it for fingerprints. Simon stepped forward, but hesitated and threw a concerned glance back at Blair. 

"Chief, why don't you wait outside?" Jim asked. 

Blair wanted to protest but decided against it and stepped back. The smell was quite strong even before Simon pulled open the cargo container. Jim clasped his hand over his nose and reeled back. The smell of feces and unwashed bodies was nearly overwhelming. Simon aimed his flashlight beam into the darkness and in the light of the small beam, corpses became visible. They had sunk against each other and were thrown together like rag dolls. The container was full of them, as if they had all stood squeezed in there and hadn't had enough room to fall. 

"How many?" Jim gasped. 

"We're not sure yet. Maybe twenty. They all look Asian. The ventilation holes were blocked, taped over, probably on purpose. It wouldn't have taken long for them to suffocate. Nobody could hear them outside the container. They were being illegally shipped into the country, probably yesterday morning. The two dead men outside are Asian too." 

Simon closed the door again, his face ashen. He had seen it several times today, but it never got easier. 

"Did the two escape?" Jim asked. 

"Not likely. We think they were part of the smuggling operation. They were most likely here to take care of the transportation from here to their transition camp. A large truck is standing on the parking lot, maybe theirs. There's also a green car there, the same type used by Chris Ng's men. Can you detect anything?" Simon asked hopefully. 

Jim gulped. The sweet, sickening stench of the bodies was overwhelming. Blair came forward, avoiding looking inside the container. He held his hand at the small of Jim's back and tried to stand firm despite the fact that he was in danger of losing his breakfast. He hadn't seen anything, but his imagination was working overtime from the smell alone. 

Jim shook his head. "There's too much, Simon. I'm having trouble sorting it all out. Maybe... maybe I can get something off the two men." 

Jim squatted over the two dead men. They were expensively dressed, bold tattoos visible beneath their shirts. Jim opened his senses but nothing obvious came forward. He fingered the front of their bodies where the first bullets had entered. His sense of touch informed him, even through the rubber glove, that the fabric was burned as if they had been shot at close range. Jim sniffed carefully at his fingertips. Blair stood over him and watched. 

"Getting anything?" 

"Don't know. The smell of the powder is kind of different. Maybe I'm imagining things." 

"Looks like an execution," Simon guessed. 

"Yeah. Shot first in the chest and then in the head to make sure. And no one bothered to disguise it either." 

"They wanted to make a statement and give out a warning to all who might interfere." 

Jim stood up and gazed around. On the perimeter of the crime scene, a small crowd of spectators had gathered. Jim zoomed in on a group of darkly-dressed Asian men who appeared to have taken an interest in the police investigation. A press truck pulled onto the street just beyond the yellow tape and the men left, moving hastily towards a set of dark cars. Jim waited patiently to get a glimpse of one of the license plates, memorizing the letters and numbers as the vehicles pulled away. 

"C'mon, Chief. We need to get a few answers." 

Jim wiped his hands on his pants. He had a grim, determined expression in his face and it was clear to Blair that Jim's excitement was gone. He walked behind his lover to the waiting truck. 

* * *

Heavy rain fell that afternoon and the sky was dark gray. Blair had his hands pushed into his pockets and was following Jim's long stride down the park lane. The seaside park was deserted; the lawn had turned to mud and the pavement hosted a small river. It fitted both their moods. 

"Why can't we meet this guy at a diner? Somewhere dry and warm?" Blair half-whined. "I mean, I've accepted that we won't be having sex anytime soon, but I could use at least some oral satisfaction. It's so cold, I can't feel my dick anymore, man." 

His wet curls stuck to his skull and his jeans were soaked up to his thighs. Jim, unsettled by the weather, didn't answer. He walked even faster to the Mr. Tube Steak cart that stood in the rain. Two figures were huddled beneath roof of the cart. 

"Hey, Ellison!" one of the men croaked in greeting. 

He was an ugly man with a face marred by too much alcohol. He smelled like a goat stable even to an unenhanced sense of smell. Blair kept his distance. 

"Barney? You got something for me?" 

The man waved his napkin in front of Jim's face like a white flag. 

"Not so fast, okay! First, we talk about payday." 

"C'mon man, you got something to say, say it!" Blair told him bluntly. 

Jim glanced over at Blair, who just shrugged. Barney was Jim's snitch, but he'd had just about enough of the rain and cold. He wanted back in his bed. And he wanted a back rub from his boyfriend. 

"Hey, Sandburg. I remember when you were still a nice, friendly kid. Ellison totally ruined you. You picked up all his bad habits." 

Jim snorted and John, the Mr. Tube Steak vendor, solemnly handed him a hot dog. Jim bit into it with relish. He finished it up so fast Blair thought he might take a bite out of Barney next. 

The scraggy man shuffled around a bit. 

"Chris Ng was running this business. Brought a load of people in every now and then. Spread them around, took care of everything. Papers, jobs, the girls." 

"Who wants his turf now?" Jim said around a mouthful. 

John, with a new hot dog in his hand, looked at Blair questioningly. Blair shook his head. He wasn't that hungry. He had yet to forget the awful sweet smell of decaying bodies. 

"Tim Lung. He's new. He wanted to make Chris Ng's life miserable. With the container full of stiffs, Ng has lost face with the big bosses in Taiwan or wherever the hell they hide now the communists have Hong Kong back. Ng won't take it. One of them has to go." 

Jim nodded and threw his paper napkin into the trash can. He reached inside his wallet and handed Barney a few bills. 

"Don't waste it on the horses." 

"You're not my mom, Ellison." 

"We should go pay a little visit to Chris Ng," Jim suggested as they headed back to the truck. 

"Simon said the two dead men are from Ng's gang?" 

"Probably." 

"I thought he was into smuggling drugs, not people." 

"Well," Jim shrugged. "You know these mobster types. Finger in everything." 

"So, tea time at the Scarlet Dragon again?" Blair said, remembering their last visit to the fancy restaurant in Chinatown that Chris Ng kept as a cover for his real business. 

"Yup," Jim agreed. 

"And this Tim... what's his name?" 

"Like Barney said, he's new. An ambitious guy who wants to take over Chris Ng's throne in Chinatown. They have all gambling clubs, girls and drugs." 

"Just like Ng." 

"Yup. And Cascade isn't big enough for both of them." 

They had reached the truck, and Blair opened the door. Jim's nostrils flared. Blair's wet hair and clothes filled the cab of the truck with a weird smell. Jim wasn't sure if he liked it or not. 

"I can't imagine what it might have been like, inside there... with no air. They just wanted a better life." Blair shivered in his passenger seat. "All that just to make Chris Ng look bad." 

"These Triad mobsters fight dirty, all about power and honor and losing face. Those people would have been like slaves, Chief, working for Ng forever to pay off their passage. The women turned into hookers, the men doing work no one else wanted to do. It would have been worse than at home." Jim glanced at Blair. "People will always think there is a better life somewhere waiting for them and men like Chris Ng exploit them, taking their life savings and selling them into slavery." 

Blair nodded and groaned when they turned into Chinatown. He was still wet and it was going to be a long day. He reminded himself that the people in the container would have preferred their day to be as long. 

"We've got to get these assholes, Jim." 

* * *

Blocks away, the busy Chinatown street was full of pedestrians despite the bad weather. The Scarlet Dragon wasn't open yet, but two men, obviously guards, stood in front and watched the street. 

Suddenly, shots burst from a passing car. Jerking around, the two guards drew their guns, but not fast enough to take their killers with them. The bullets hit them squarely in their chests. Screams echoed through the small street as everyone ran for cover. Before the guards' bodies had even hit the ground, three dark sedans with black windows stopped in front of the restaurant. 

Three men from each car jumped out and opened fire at the restaurant with machine guns. The bullets tore the front apart, reducing it to kindling. The red dragons and lamps that decorated the facade burst into thousands of pieces. Window glass shattered and fell inside the restaurant. The gunmen kept firing even after it was obvious no one and nothing could possibly still be alive. 

The leader barked an order and a man with a bazooka stepped forward and fired toward the restaurant. The projectile hit inside the restaurant and the resultant explosion consumed what was left of the structure. Fire leapt from every opening in the front of the building. 

* * *

Jim stepped on the accelerator, throwing Blair against the door, when he heard the shooting start. 

"Jim?! What the hell?" 

"Gunfire." 

Jim turned left into the street and spotted the fire and smoke. 

"Oh, shit! At Chris Ng's restaurant!" 

* * *

The sound of sirens was coming closer. The Triad group leader barked at his men and waved them back to the cars. One man after another drew back. Two secured the area. They jumped back into their cars with military discipline. With solid thuds, the car doors closed and the group took off, running red lights in blatant disregard for other traffic. Cars behind them crashed into each other, effectively blocking the street. Jim's truck was nearly sideswiped by one out-of-control vehicle before he came to a screeching halt behind a pair of collided cars. Jim pounded his steering wheel in frustration. They were trapped. 

"Shit! Shit!" 

Jim looked around frantically. There was no way he could squeeze the truck through the chaos and wreckage surrounding them. A city bus stopped at the street corner. It took Jim two seconds to form a plan. He jumped from the truck and ran towards the bus. 

"Oh, boy!" Blair realized his partner's intentions and hopped out behind him. 

Jim pounded on the door of the bus and held his shield up. The driver opened the door. The bus was almost empty. 

"Police! I need to confiscate the bus!" Jim roared. 

The few passengers left hurriedly. The driver left his seat like it was on fire. Jim threw himself in the driver's seat and glanced at the controls. Satisfied with what he saw, he stepped on the gas pedal. The bus lurched forward and Jim steered the wheel to navigate the bus into the middle of the street. 

"Jim! Jim! Hold it!" Blair shouted. 

Blair ran after the bus as fast as he could. No way was he going to be left behind. The back door was still open and Blair reached for it with his last ounce of strength and speed. The bus slowed a bit when Jim searched for a way to follow the black cars through the traffic. Blair took his chance. With a crazy leap, he threw himself inside the bus, landing on all fours. 

"Hey, glad you came!" Jim shouted with a wolfish grin. "Last stop in Hell!" 

Blair made a face at Jim and tried to get up -- which wasn't easy considering Jim's crazed driving. The bus swayed like a drunk and Blair had trouble keeping himself from rolling across the floor. Slowly he worked himself forward to where Jim was, clinging to the rails like a lifeline. 

"They're heading toward the bridge!" Jim noted. "We need a way to block them." 

"I'll call Simon!" Blair shouted, lying half on a seat. 

Jim nodded over his shoulder and swerved to avoid hitting a small car. 

"Oh, shit!" Jim stepped on the brake. 

The bus swerved dangerously to the left side of the road. The driver honked angrily at them. 

"Get off the road, jackass!" He snarled. "Idiot!" 

Jim remained in the middle of the road, sure he was plainly visible to anyone. 

"Had no idea you could drive a bus." 

"It's a lot like a tank." 

"A tank!? That explains everything!" Blair muttered. 

The men inside the dark cars had spotted the bus. They attempted to escape but the traffic was thick and the bus was closing in. Jim saw the leader closing his cell phone with a satisfied smile. The sedans stopped for a moment and then separated into three directions. 

"Damn it!" Jim swore. "Just when I had them almost cornered! They're getting away!" 

Blair frantically dialed the phone again, calling for backup. Jim hunched over the wheel concentrating on the waving sedans. He wanted the leader of the pack. His eyes zeroed on the car heading to left. With a mad grin, he followed. Blair had managed to come up behind Jim and was holding on to the back of the driver's seat. 

Police sirens wailed in the distance. Jim's expression was grim as he closed in on the lead sedan. Just as he was about to reach it, another sedan pulled up beside them. 

Jim's head jerked around. A black window went down and a gun pointed at the bus tires. Blair was torn between watching and finding somewhere to hide. 

"Hold on!" Jim yelled to Blair before turning to face the sedan. "C'mon, let's see what you're made of, pal!" 

Jim steered the bus to the left to bump into the sedan but it was too late. The bullets had already done the damage. With a crack, the bus's left front tire burst and Jim lost control. Helplessly, the lumbering bus skittered across the street and directly into a bus stop. The metal and glass shredded with an awful sound. Jim was thrown out of the driver's seat. Blair curled on the floor, seemingly none the worse for wear. 

"Simon is going to love this," Blair declared ominously. 

Jim threw Blair a disgusted glance as if Blair headed the plot to remove all fun from his job. He studied the mess. It wasn't that bad: there were no casualties. 

* * *

Simon was fuming. Blair watched from Jim's desk in the bullpen while the captain chewed Jim out in his office. Finally Simon opened the door. 

"Rhonda, get the Chinese embassy again. They need to send someone who can identify all these people," he barked. 

Jim slouched out, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked a bit defeated. Simon went back into his office but not before he threw a warning glance at Blair. The younger man slumped a bit in his chair, attempting to become invisible. 

"How bad is it?" Blair whispered. 

"Simon ripped me a new one but that's all." 

"So we don't have to give out parking tickets for the rest of our lives?" Blair chuckled. 

"Worse!" Jim muttered gravely. 

"What? Department of Sanitation escort duty? Permanent night-shift at the morgue?" 

"Simon thinks you should drive from now on." 

Blair laughed out loud and several heads turned in their direction. 

"Well, he is the captain." 

Jim growled and smacked him. Blair fended him off easily and giggled. Jim had to grin. 

"You really had me going there for a moment. Okay, so don't keep me in suspense. What's it going to be?" Blair asked. 

Jim gave him a sly smile. Blair knew that expression. It always made him want to run for cover. 

* * *

The floor vibrated as the airplane engine started. Jim pretended to be unconcerned but the noise of the huge airport was wearing down his control over the dials. For hours they had been strolling between the cargo loading docks, watching the airplanes being loaded and unloaded, following the cargo trucks to storage, pestering the ground personnel with questions about suspicious freight. It was the middle of the night but the place was lit so well it could have been noon. The Cascade Airport never slept. 

"We're never going to find anything, man. I'm sure they already removed all the evidence," Blair griped hopelessly. "And I doubt Ng is hiding out here. After they blew out his restaurant, he's probably on his way to whatever Chinese rock he crawled out from under right now." 

Jim wasn't having it. "I called Barney. He's heard that Ng's plane is going out of here tonight. Nobody knows where Tim Lung is, but I bet he'll show up soon to give Chris Ng his final farewell." 

"Maybe in the old part of the airport. There are still some hangars in use." 

Jim shoved Blair forward impatiently. 

"Giddyup, Toto!" 

"Woof." 

* * *

Few workers were in evidence as they walked through the old hangars. The asphalt was broken and the buildings needed more than just a fresh coat of paint. The place looked like a graveyard for airplanes. Suddenly Jim stopped and cocked his head. Blair laid a hand on his arm. 

"Over here, Chief." 

They slipped inside a dark building. Creeping along the walls, they approached the back door to the main hall. Blair could hear the Asian voices through the corrugated iron walls. In front of them stood a half-open door. Through it, Blair could see a cargo plane and a group of people sitting on the floor next to it. Three men seemed to be guarding them with drawn guns. 

"What now?" Blair whispered urgently. 

"We wait." 

Blair rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable. 

One of the guards' cell phones beeped and he answered the call speaking Cantonese. 

"Damn it. I can't understand a word," Jim growled. 

Blair sighed. 

"Watch the body language," he suggested. 

"No need to read any body language, Sandburg, they're leaving." 

Blair scrambled up to peek over Jim's shoulder. Jim observed them intently. The group of prisoners was ushered onto the plane. They were men and women, all of whom appeared to be Chinese. One of the guards opened the hangar doors while the others climbed into the cockpit. The engines revved up and Jim ran, unseen, close to the plane with Blair on his heels. The back door of the cargo plane was still open, and they climbed in. 

The prisoners were held in a small storage compartment. Jim could hear their low, nervous murmurs. There were a lot of boxes stenciled with Handle With Care. Jim crouched behind them, dragging Blair down with him. The plane rolled out to the airfield. Blair looked around and saw a stack of parachute packs. He grabbed one and started to fasten it on his back. The prospect of being high over the ground wasn't something he was looking forward to. 

The third guard clambered into the plane and they immediately took off. Blair looked expectantly at Jim, not sure what he was up to. The older man held his gun ready in his hand in case they were discovered. But the guard went to join his pals in the cockpit. The draft from the open door was freezing cold. 

"This sucks! Why don't they close the door?" Blair whispered, shivering. 

Jim studied the boxes, trying to figure out what was in them. 

"In case they have to dump their load before landing," he answered absently. 

Blair gulped and inched closer to Jim. 

"Do you have a plan?" He asked. 

"I want to know where they are operating from. I bet wherever this plane is going, Chris Ng is there, hiding." 

"What if they're heading to Canada?" 

Jim gave him an exasperated glance. The plane hit an air pocket and lunged dangerously. Boxes fell to the floor. Another bump set a whole row of boxes crashing into Jim, knocking him over as his gun hit the metal floor with a loud clang. The door of the cockpit opened and Blair heard someone swear. The man immediately raised his gun when he spotted Blair cowering behind the fallen boxes. 

"Hands up!" he yelled. 

"Okay, okay!" Blair tried to calm the man. "Tom told me you were headed to Canada and I thought I could catch a lift, man." 

He stood up and smiled inanely. The man was puzzled for a moment. 

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" 

Jim searched desperately for his gun, but it was out of reach. The man aimed his gun at Blair. Blair stared wide-eyed at the black muzzle. Jim had to stop this. Now. 

Jim sprang toward the gunman, who was precariously close to the open door. Exactly at that moment, the plane lunged again and he missed the man, catching only his jacket. Jim fell, dragging the man away from Blair. The man tried to hit Jim with the gun but lost his balance. Jim scrambled desperately for anything to hold on to as he tumbled across the floor towards the open cargo door. In terrible slow motion, Blair saw that they wouldn't make it. 

"Jim!" 

Then they were gone, sucked out through the door. Blair plunged after them without thinking. 

The rushing air hit him in the face. His eyes burned and he could barely see. Trying not to tumble, he found a balance. He didn't want to look down so instead he tried to focus on his lover. There, Jim was under him, plunging towards the ground. 

"Jim! Jim!" He screamed at top of his lungs. 

Jim was falling but he'd spread-eagled to slow his fall. Blair was scared out of his mind. He was sure he had only one opportunity to catch his lover in mid-air. He sucked his breath in, the fear like pain in his body, and dipped. He angled his body and pressed his arms and legs together. His descent sped up and quickly, he was closing in to Jim. With absolute panic, he realized that he would pass over him at this speed. With a cry of sheer desperation he tried to change his angle again and slow down. 

"Oh, my god! Please, please, please, please, please..." 

He spread his arms towards Jim, determined to grip at anything. He was able to catch the back of Jim's jacket but the speed difference between the two men was too great. He felt his fingers slipping from the smooth garment. Clawing like mad he sobbed. This was the ultimate horror. He would lose Jim, forced to watch him fall. 

They descended for several seconds. Blair wouldn't let go, but neither could he get a better hold on Jim. Then Jim's arm reached back gripping Blair's arm. Jim turned himself around and managed to wrap himself around Blair. Holding on for dear life, Jim opened the parachute. 

Blair cried and pressed himself against Jim. He couldn't believe their luck. Jim wasn't relieved yet. They had opened the parachute almost too late and their combined weight meant they were falling too fast. 

Jim peered down at the hard ground of the bare winter fields. The moment before they hit the ground, he let go of Blair and pushed him away. Both men fell hard. Blair cried out. Jim scrambled up, scared that Blair had landed badly. 

"Chief! Blair!" He shouted. "You okay, buddy?" 

Blair moaned and rolled around on the ground. 

"Easy, easy! Hold still!" Jim ordered gently. 

Desperately, he freed Blair from the billowing parachute and tried to find out where Blair was injured. But the younger man just sobbed squirming and held his leg. 

"My ankle hurts. I think something broke. Shit!" 

"Hold still, Chief, and let me look at it." 

Jim opened the shoe with great care and ran his fingers over the foot and joint. He couldn't feel any broken bones. He sighed, relieved. 

"I think you only sprained it." 

Blair sighed, and looked back toward the horizon where the airplane was disappearing. Jim stood up. The perps had escaped. 

For now. 

* * *

Blair sat on the bed, his bad ankle propped up on a pillow with a big bag of frozen peas on it. He wore one of Jim's white T-shirts; it was so big on him it looked like a nightshirt. He had commandeered the remote and was surfing channels on the TV in Jim's wall storage unit. Jim had turned out all the lights downstairs and was busy rummaging through his dresser drawers looking for Ace bandages he was sure he remembered being there. Blair would need them in the morning for his sprained ankle. He was restless, his body still vibrating and his blood still singing from the adrenaline rush of the day's close call. 

Blair's tired eyes followed his movements. Jim was wearing him out. He felt like his bones had turned to lead. He turned off the TV. 

"You know, that was the closest you've been to a superhero since I've known you." 

Jim looked up, frowning. 

"You were flying through the air like Superman, no, like Sentinelman." 

"I... you saved my life. You were the hero, Supershaman." 

"No, no, shamans only fly in their dreams." 

Jim came closer and perched on the bed, smiling solemnly at his friend. 

"I'm glad you're still here." 

"I'm glad we're both still here," Blair added seriously. 

Jim wrapped his arms around him and they just held each other for a long time. Jim helped Blair lie down and arrange his injured leg in a comfortable position, then curled himself carefully around Blair. The younger man soon fell into a restless sleep brought on by the pain meds. Jim watched time tick away until the sun woke Blair up. There was a dull ache behind his eyes but otherwise he didn't miss the sleep. 

* * *

Inside the exclusive club, a party was in full swing. Loud music was blaring from the speakers. The neon light turned everything into a cold blue. The man who had led the assault against Chris Ng's restaurant strolled over the dance floor. He had no interest in the revelry around him. Two of his musclemen followed him. 

"Boss?" 

A slender man flanked by two pretty girls looked up. He had long black hair and was dressed in a black silk suit, shirt and tie. Sitting in a booth in the back of the club, he was able to see everything without being seen. The table in front of him bore a magnum of champagne and two silver-plated guns. 

"Any news?" He asked. 

"Chris Ng had his merchandise taken out of the country." 

"Tim!" one of the girls pouted. "I want to dance." 

She was obviously drunk. Tim Lung pushed her aside impatiently. She scrambled to her feet and staggered on high heels toward the restroom. The other was wiser, and kept her mouth shut. 

"He's getting scared?" Tim asked. 

"His lieutenant came to me to ask for a deal." 

Tim Lung smiled like a predator while sipping from his glass. "What did you tell him?" 

The man relaxed his stance and smirked. "You will offer your conditions. He accepts or he's dead." 

Tim grinned, obviously pleased. It was going better than he had thought. Nevertheless, Chris Ng wasn't a man to take lightly. He hadn't become a Triad patriarch because of his fine cuisine. 

"We can't trust him. He might try something." 

"I will take care of everything," the man promised. 

He waved at his men, signaling that it was time to leave. He didn't like that his boss was partying while their enemy was still alive. 

* * *

Simon slapped a folder down in front of Jim. 

"Care to tell me about the dead Chinese man in the field outside Wiltham?" 

"Wiltham?" 

Jim was the picture of innocence. Simon didn't buy it for a second, but Jim's "who me?" routine didn't surprise him at all. 

"A small town between Cascade and the Canadian border. Ring a bell?" 

"Not really." 

Jim's eyes had never been a more innocent shade of blue. 

"Witnesses said three men jumped out of a plane heading north. Two came down with a single parachute and landed safely. The third one just came down. Hard." 

Simon clipped off the end of his cigar. He leaned forward to put his elbows on his desk. He knew this act well. Ellison and Sandburg had played this routine dozens of times on this very stage. The only thing missing was the other half of the vaudeville team. 

"And where is Sandburg today?" 

"How should I know? He's probably in the library doing research." 

Jim said it as if the very idea of knowing where Blair hung out bored him. 

Simon tilted his head and gave him his best glare. Jim's comment had all but confirmed his suspicion. 

"Hope he's not lying somewhere with a broken pelvis after that stunt. Should I call the hospital or just send flowers to the funeral home?" 

Jim rubbed his neck. Simon knew them far too well. 

"What do you want, Simon?" 

"I want to know why you called air control about an airplane that took off last night from the old Cascade Airport." 

Jim sighed. He should have notified Simon about their plans. He would be better off spilling the whole plan now. 

"My snitch told me that Chris Ng might have an airplane out there. We thought we might find him there. He's been hiding ever since his restaurant went out in a blaze of glory." 

"And my two Jedi Knights had to root out evil on their own?" Simon concluded. 

"Simon!" Jim protested. 

Simon waved him off and sighed. "While you were out chasing Ng, we got some news. One of Brown's informants came forward and told him that there would a meeting between Chris Ng and Tim Lung. To make a deal." 

"You believe that? Deal, my ass. They'd rather cut each others' throats." 

"Yeah, that's my read, too. It's just that we have nothing on Lung, just the word of some snitches. His men would rather cut off their own fingers than talk to the police. And Chris Ng is hiding. We need someone for the surveillance, to listen in. And that would be you." 

Jim swallowed a triumphant grin. "At your service, boss." 

Jim headed out of Simon's office, eager to call Blair and tell him the news. Simon's voice wafted out after him. 

"Bring Sandburg, assuming he can walk on his own!" 

* * *

Blair had cooked dinner by the time Jim came home. He wasn't limping much, thanks to Jim's tidy wrap job on his ankle. 

Jim hung up his jacket. "How's the foot?" 

"Almost like new. I've used some herbs this Hungarian witch gave me once \-- along with some fortune-telling about my lover." 

Jim leaned in to kiss his brow tenderly. 

"Something smells good." 

"Arroz a la Cubana," Blair replied, distracted. 

Jim stepped closer to Blair where he stood by the range stirring the tomato sauce. Jim sniffed Blair as well as the food. The smell of food and his lover created an arousing mix. He slipped a hand beneath Blair's flannel shirt and stroked the soft skin at the small of his back. Blair blew on a spoonful of the sauce. 

"Try this." 

Blair held up the wooden spoon for Jim to taste. Jim bent forward and sipped the red sauce from the spoon. 

"Nice." 

His hand wandered up along the dip of Blair's spine over soft, fine hair. He could feel Blair's heart hammer faster. Finally he rested his hand at the back of his lover's neck. He loved the tantalizing vulnerability of the skin there and he took it in a firm grip. 

Blair shivered. He stirred the sauce but was acutely aware of the strong hands at his back and neck and how Jim crowded him. He peered up. There was something dark and predatory in Jim's expression. The Sentinel stared down at him, his gaze unwavering. The arousal hit Blair like a shock. He let go of the spoon. Jim's eyes were nearly black as Blair leaned his head back to offer his lips. 

Jim immediately claimed his mouth and kissed him hard. Blair made a choking noise and went limp against him. Jim held him upright, one arm around his chest, one at his crotch. Kissing Blair desperately, he pressed himself against the smaller man as if to merge with him. They made it down to the floor and Blair tore frantically at Jim's shirt. Jim wiggled, half helping, half hindering as he seemed unable to let go of Blair for a second. Finally he sat up, straddling Blair, and threw his shirt off. Blair opened Jim's fly impatiently and drew the hard cock out, weighing it in his palm. 

"Want you!" Blair panted darkly. "Want this!" 

Jim studied his lover, trying to decide what to do next. Blair was a feast for the senses: hairy chest pumping like bellows, full lips swollen, silky hair fanned out. He leaned over and placed his hands on either side of Blair's head. Wrapping the curls around his fingers he plundered the mouth again. The body under him arched against him, begging for more. 

"Fuck me! I'll do whatever you want, just fuck me!" Blair begged. 

Jim latched onto a nipple, sucking and biting it until it was bright red. Blair squirmed and groaned loudly. 

"Want you!" he moaned over and over. 

Jim crouched back and tugged Blair's jeans down. He wasn't wearing any underwear and his hard cock sprang out. 

"You were waiting for me? Weren't you? Your sweet little ass ready for me?" Jim taunted. 

"C'mon, Jim!" There was impatience in the hoarse voice. 

Blair pushed his jeans the rest of the way off, sat up and climbed onto Jim's lap. 

"I'm ready for you!" 

With that, he led Jim's hand to his ass. Jim probed him, surprised to find him lubed up already. The realization that Blair had waited for him like this, ready to be claimed, shot directly to the most primal levels of his brain. He growled like a panther and lifted Blair up. 

With a bit of coaxing, Blair sat down on the hard cock. Panting, he wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and bit him hard. Jim gasped from the pain, the adrenaline firing all his nerves. Blair rode him slowly at first, taking control. He fondled him, kissing his face all over. His cock was pressed against Jim's smooth skin, rubbing over the hard muscles of his abdomen. Slowly he picked up the pace and both caught the steadily building rhythm. 

"Love you!" Blair whispered when he felt close. 

"Love..." Jim gasped and came. 

Jim clutched him tightly and Blair came, sparked by his lover's orgasm. Jim let them slide back down to the floor and he cradled Blair against him. 

"Love you!" 

* * *

Cascade Center Mall had been open since the winter and was winning acclaim for its large central hall, which featured a bamboo grove. The papers cited it as one of the finer tourist attractions in Cascade. It was early in the day and there weren't many people around yet. Most shops had only just opened. 

Chris Ng posted his men all around the galleries. In the center, he waited for Tim Lung. The audacity of the newcomer and his disrespect for traditional ways made him angry. His right-hand man, tall and bald with tattoos running up his neck, stood by him, nervously talking on his cell phone. 

"Back in the old days, men had respect. This country is destroying our ways," Chris Ng complained. 

"Tim Lung is too ambitious. He might be in power now but he is careless and he will fall." 

"Do you have everything prepared?" 

"I do. But I doubt that this place will keep him from starting a fight. He doesn't care about the police. He is a madman. He will destroy us all with his craziness." 

Chris Ng sat down at one of the small coffee tables and ordered an espresso. He drummed his fingers on the table, but stopped when he realized it betrayed his unsettled frame of mind and made him look weak. 

* * *

Simon was standing in a back room with the leader of the SWAT team, Troy Rogers. They had agreed to mix regular officers with SWAT team members for back up. The manager of the mall brought the building plans and spread them on the table between them. 

"You have all entrances covered?" Simon asked. 

"The best we could. Even though there aren't many patrons in there yet, I pray nothing happens. This place is a perfect trap. Anyone who really knows the layout could control everything with just a few well-placed men," Rogers explained. 

"Let's hope that their meeting will work out. I hate to have a full-blown gang war right now." 

"We're ready to arrest them if they make one hostile move, but I wouldn't mind if Chris Ng got rid of that bastard. I can't get the picture of that container out of my mind." 

A little ways away, Jim fastened his Kevlar vest and studied the plans, memorizing all exits and passages. Like the SWAT team, he was in full combat gear. Blair stood in the background, looking adrift in the sea of testosterone around him. 

"I expect Tim Lung will try something. If not here, then later when Ng feels safe. There isn't enough room in Cascade for both of them," Jim speculated. 

"As long as Chris Ng is alive, Tim can't hold his place. Ng has more friends in Hong Kong than Lung," Simon agreed. "We need to keep an eye on Lung after the meet. He might go after Ng once he lets his guard down." 

Rogers nodded and went back to his men. Jim helped Sandburg don his vest. The younger man wiggled around to find a comfortable position. 

"Man, I hate these things," Blair complained. "This is so not my kind of fashion statement." 

"It's saved your life before." Jim's tone brooked no argument. "Besides, it makes me feel better when you wear it." 

Jim closed the Velcro and patted his lover's back reassuringly. 

"I feel better too," Blair admitted. 

Jim turned his cap around backwards. He looked ready for anything. Blair looked his lover up and down with an appreciative smile. There was something about Jim when he unleashed the warrior in him. Something dangerous and dark and very attractive on some primal level. Blair could easily let loose and act on those primal desires inside him. 

"What?" Jim picked up on the shift in Blair's scent from nerves to something else. 

"Have you ever thought about a little role play?" Blair queried. 

Jim glanced around to see if anybody was paying attention to them. This wasn't the time for sexual innuendo, though most of the SWAT team members had cleared out, leaving for their posts. Only Rafe and Simon remained in the room. 

"What kind of role play are you talking about? Shepherd scenes or studded leather and a whip?" he asked, exasperated. 

"Well, I like the combat boots and the vest. They bring your muscles out." 

Jim sighed, rolling his eyes heavenwards. "Chief, I don't think now's the time." 

Blair wasn't impressed at Jim's refusal. He just needed something to goad him into it. 

"C'mon, you can choose something too. I bet there's something you'd like to see me in." Blair grinned. 

"You? Sure, a pink tutu." 

"Really?" Blair snorted. 

They stared in each other's eyes for a moment trying to gauge how serious the other was with the admitted kinks. 

"Ellison!" Simon called. "We're heading out." 

Jim and Blair joined Simon and Rafe in the front room where they could watch the center of the mall through a window. Jim zeroed in on Chris Ng having coffee, then on the other men he had brought with him for protection. 

"Ng has at least seven men with him. Two down at the lower level, four on the first level and one up over by the elevator. As far as I can see, they're all armed." Jim counted. "Any sign of Lung yet?" 

Simon spoke into his mike. "Brown is outside. He'll let us know as soon as Lung's inside the building." 

A movement on the first floor caught Jim's attention. Tim Lung and a group of his bodyguards came up from the west wing of the mall. The young man, his face was pale against a shock of long, black hair, was a picture of arrogance and machismo.. 

"He's here. Damn it, where did he get in?" 

Simon looked around until he spotted Lung. Immediately, he called all units and alerted them to Lung's presence. 

Lung went to the stairs and walked down slowly, surrounded by his men. Chris Ng had noticed him and stood up. 

"Jim, can you hear anything?" Blair asked over Jim's shoulder. 

Jim tilted his head and focused on his hearing. The noise of the mall faded into the background and the voices of the two men became clear. 

"Finally, we meet." Tim Lung greeted his rival with a mocking bow. 

"I do this only for the families and for the business. What do you want?" Ng cut the other man off. 

Tim Lung seemed to be annoyed. 

"This city isn't big enough for both of us. You are out, old man. It's time for a change. You are sloppy and soft. The bosses at home want more success, more results." 

"This isn't Hong Kong. We have to get along with the police. You think you can do what you want." 

"I know I can do what I want," Lung snarled. 

With that, he drew his gun and held it against Chris Ng's chest. The sound of the shot was muffled. Ng jerked and Lung let him slide back onto his chair. The move was so smooth and subtle that no one seemed to notice. Lung turned and made to leave. 

"Shots fired! Perp down!" Jim shouted and was out the door leading into the galleries. 

Simon bellowed orders into his mike and followed Jim, gun drawn. 

All hell broke loose in the center. Mall patrons screamed and scattered for cover as the bald man stormed forward and shot blindly in Tim Lung's direction. He missed. Lung's bodyguards opened fire and the bald man fell back into a shallow landscaping pool. From the top galleries, Ng's men started to fire down on Lung's men, who returned fire. The SWAT team rushed forward but found themselves caught in crossfire, the situation out of their control. 

Tim Lung was in the middle of it all, still unhurt. He drew back quickly, firing in all directions with a gun in either hand. 

"He's getting away!" Simon yelled. 

Jim watched helplessly. Then he spotted a string of decorations hanging down from the ceiling a few feet to his left. He tugged at the string and determined it could carry his weight. He climbed over the railing. 

"You are so not Jackie Chan!" Blair protested. 

Using his long legs to balance, Jim rappelled down the string. The fall was slowed by the ripping decoration but he still landed gracelessly on a table below. The small food court table broke apart under his weight and Jim fell to the floor. His crash landing briefly caught the gunmen's attention and soon bullets flew around his head. With a mad dash he hopped behind the large planters full of bamboo. 

When Blair saw that Jim had left him behind, he raced toward the emergency stairs. No way was he going to let Jim hunt down Lung alone and unaided. As Blair opened the door at the top of the staircase, he listened for sounds of anyone else inside. From upstairs, he heard someone open a door and several men rushed down the stairs. Blair was relieved when he saw that it was the SWAT team. They ran down to ground level and Blair followed them. 

Chris Ng's bodyguards had had enough and were trying to find an escape. They worked themselves back to the emergency door while exchanging bullets with Lung's men, who had stayed behind to cover his retreat. They opened the emergency door and found themselves faced with a staircase full of SWAT cops. With dozens of guns pointing at them, they surrendered and threw their guns down. 

"Henley! Markham!" Rogers barked. 

Two of his men arrested the gunmen. The rest of the team spilled out into the center hall with Blair on their heels. 

"Jim? Jim!" 

Blair scanned the room fearfully. He spotted his lover lurking between the bamboo stands. Lung was leaving by the west wing. Waving frantically at Jim, he pointed at the disappearing Lung. Jim nodded and sprinted over to Blair, who was hiding behind a wide beam. 

"Didn't I tell you to stay out of the action?" 

"Didn't I tell you you're not invincible?" Blair replied. "How about following Lung?" 

Jim peeked around the beam. Grabbing Blair by the arm, he sprinted after Lung into the west wing. 

"Where did he go?" 

The hall was empty. Jim moved forward stealthily, gun raised and ears trained to detect any movement in the open shops. Blair caught sight of some women stumbling hastily out of a shop to flee. He nudged Jim and nodded in that direction. Jim grinned. 

"Every so often I remember why I keep you around, Sandburg." 

"Bite me!" 

"Later!" 

They skittered to a halt in front of Victoria's Secret. 

"Maybe you can find a tutu in there," Jim smirked as he glanced at the shop's window display. 

There was movement in the back of the store. Jim looked around but couldn't quite see. He had to move into the shop. He did so quietly but not unobtrusively. A tall, sweating Jim in full combat gear had a hard time blending into a lingerie shop display. Still, he narrowed his senses and searched for the gunmen. A few women were hiding in the changing room. He could tell they were scared to death by their loud, irregular breathing. Suddenly someone shoved a rack full of lingerie at him. Jim fell backward and was buried under it. Lung and two of his men slipped out of the store's back door. Blair helped him up, picking small pieces of lingerie off him. Jim found a red lace panty hanging off the front of his Kevlar vest. He plucked it off and offered it to Blair. 

"Here, something for you." 

"No thanks, man. Where did that asshole go?" 

Jim threw the scanty garment over his shoulder and tugged Blair with him to the back door. It led to a narrow hallway, which brought them straight to the parking lot outside the mall. Jim turned toward the sound of a car horn honking. It was Tim Lung's car, which was being held up in its escape by a blocked exit ramp. After a lightning glance around, a delighted Jim spotted what he needed. 

"A motorcycle?" Blair gaped. "With a sidecar?" 

Blair hesitated to climb in and stared at Jim's dubious choice of transportation for a high-speed chase. It was an old model, black with a sleek sidecar. Jim had already settled astride the machine and was fumbling to start it. 

"The owner's gonna kill you." 

"C'mon, let's go!" Jim ordered impatiently. 

Blair swung his legs inside the sidecar and settled down, not sure what to do with his hands. 

"Next thing will be a tricycle." Blair complained. "You jump on everything that moves!" 

"And if you're really lucky, you'll be next, babe!" Jim promised with a leer. 

He gunned the accelerator and let the gear go. The front of the bike lifted up, and the motorcycle raced off on its back wheel. Blair clutched desperately at the edge of the sidecar. 

"Holy shit, Jim, you're not a Hell's Angel!" 

They raced from the parking lot. Lung's car was already disappearing in the distance. The traffic was light, so Jim leaned over the bike's handlebars and followed at top speed. Blair clutched at the sidecar. His long hair waved in the wind. His ass was bumped painfully by the rough ride over the uneven street. 

Just as they were about to overtake it, Lung's car suddenly took a hard left turn. Jim whipped the bike around. Blair's sidecar lifted from the ground and he howled in panic. But Jim had it immediately under control and Blair's sidecar plunged onto the asphalt again. Blair bobbed up several times before it was stable. 

"I need better life insurance!" 

Lung's driver sped the car down a long street to the port. Jim threw a speculative glance at Blair, then took his gun out and handed it down to Blair. 

"Here! Take it. Shoot at the car." 

"Me? From a motorcycle?" Blair asked, unbelieving. "You've got to be kidding." 

But he gamely grabbed the gun and attempted to point over the windshield at the car in front of them. He shot twice. Jim grimaced as the rounds went wide. 

Blair held his breath and aimed more carefully, leaning as far as he could out of the shaking sidecar. He squinted his eyes and tucked his tongue in the corner of his mouth. He made two more shots and the back window of Lung's car shattered. Blair looked up triumphantly. 

"Keep shooting, Deadeye Dick!" 

At that moment, they passed over a row of potholes. Blair was thrown against the edge and the gun went flying. 

"Oops!" 

Blair stared after the black metal that ended in the gutter. He peered up apologetically at Jim who, in turn, glared back at him. 

Lung's car was now at the entrance to one of the piers. Jim realized there was nowhere for it to go. It was a dead end. He zeroed his sight ahead. At the end of the pier, a motorboat waited. 

"Hold it steady!" he growled at Blair. 

Blair eyes went as round as saucers but he reached up and held onto the handlebars. Jim snatched his ankle gun out and rose up over the seat. He focused his sight over his outstretched hand. Two shots and the back tires of the car exploded. The car started to spin but the driver got it under control again and raced on. The back fender slid on the asphalt, producing wild sparks. 

Car and motorcycle rushed up on the water channel. On the other side, Jim could see the boat waiting with a running motor. He swore and steered to the side to get a clean shot at another tire. Blair saw that they weren't going to be able to stop at this speed and would land in the channel. But Jim seemed completely unconcerned. He shot at the car. It lost its front wheel and skittered to the left of the bridge. 

Pushing his gun haphazardly into his shoulder holster, Jim grabbed the handlebars and steered the motorcycle towards a ramp on the pier. It pointed towards the channel. 

"Jim, you are not Evel Knievel!" Blair yelled in terror. 

The bike zoomed up the ramp and then there was a moment of absolute stillness as they flew through the air in a wide arc. Blair briefly noticed Lung's car skating over the edge of the dock and hitting the water with a huge splash. The hood buckled as the front end rammed the opposite wall of the channel. 

Blair realized mid-air they wouldn't make it. The sidecar was dragging the bike down to one side. They missed the dock at the other side of the channel by inches, and landed face down in the water. The sea swallowed them immediately. 

Jim was up first, coughing and looking around for Blair. 

"Sandburg! Sandburg!" 

Blair came up right behind him sputtering, looking like a drowned poodle. He splashed water angrily at Jim. 

"Calm down, will ya?" Jim tried to swim back guiltily. 

"You are a complete nut! You are crazy! You are a public menace! You belong in a loony bin!" 

"We have to find Lung," Jim tried to distract Blair. 

"Tim Lung is sleeping with the fish. And you will be sleeping on the couch!" 

* * *

Blair was sitting huddled under a blanket, shivering, when Simon wandered over to offer him some coffee. Blair took it thankfully and sipped the hot liquid. 

"Lung is dead," Simon said. "They just fished him out of the water." 

"Can't say I'm sorry," Blair said. 

"You want to go home?" Jim asked, concerned. "You'll get a cold if you don't get out of those wet clothes." 

"You both go home and get some dry clothes and then I want a report. I'm particularly looking forward to seeing how you are going to explain to the owner of that motorcycle why it drowned in Cascade Harbor." 

"It isn't broken, it's only wet. It will run fine when it's dried out." Jim replied confidently. 

At that moment the salvage crane pulled Lung's car out of the water. It spilled water from all openings. 

* * *

Blair came out of the bathroom in his ratty bathrobe. Jim fidgeted in the kitchen. He had made sandwiches for them. 

"You hungry?" He offered his special super-deluxe peace-offering sandwich. 

"I don't think I can take this any longer!" Blair protested. 

Jim looked puzzled at his disdained sandwich. 

"I want at least a hint of safety in my life. Is it too much to ask not to be bombed, shot at or almost killed once a week?" 

"C'mon, Chief, this isn't you. For what, more than three years we have been working together, and only now you get cold feet over a dip in the harbor?" 

"But it's different now, can't you see? We're a couple now. The honeymoon may be over, but we should still count as newlyweds!" 

"You're not pregnant, are you?" 

"Ha ha, very funny. No. I just want to grow old with you. Is that too much to ask?" 

Jim's flippancy faltered. Deeply touched, he drew Blair into his arms. 

"No, it's not, Chief. I love you." 

Jim reveled in the affection shining in eyes of his lover. He rubbed his hands soothingly over Blair's back. 

"All right, all right. I promise to be more careful." 

Blair sighed and leaned in. The essence of Jim surrounding him reminded Blair that there was something else he wanted. 

"I bought whipped cream and chocolate sauce," he mumbled against Jim's chest. 

"You wanna bake a cake?" 

"Yeah, Jimcake a la carte." 

Jim shoved him back and Blair grinned up at him. 

"Oh, no! That sticky mess on me? And it'll get in my hair!" 

"We could shave it off." 

"Shave it off? Nobody is going to shave my hair off!" Jim protested. 

Blair laughed out loud. 


End file.
